


Bite Me

by maiNuoire



Series: Sterek Valentine's Day Candy Heart Prompts [8]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: But it's very brief and by a demon, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Consensual Touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-05-18 17:51:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5937466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maiNuoire/pseuds/maiNuoire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For the prompt "bite me"</p>
<p>I'm having all sorts of feelings about this, and if enough of you like it, I may post a bit of Derek's perspective. </p>
<p>Let me know what you think!</p>
    </blockquote>





	Bite Me

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt "bite me"
> 
> I'm having all sorts of feelings about this, and if enough of you like it, I may post a bit of Derek's perspective. 
> 
> Let me know what you think!

The monster of the week, a demon of some kind, if Stiles is correct, is a perversion of attractiveness; as if it had read a book on desirability and made a person out of all the traits, with little accounting for the overall effect.   
  
It has its arms, long, strangely muscled things, wrapped around Derek, holding him, his back against the monster's chest, in a parody of a lovers embrace. It traces one long clawed finger down the center of Derek's chest, slicing his shirt to leave it to fall open in two neat halves. Derek shudders, his eyes flashing in panic.   
  
The monster hisses out what might pass for a laugh, and it makes Stiles cringe. "Such a strong, finely made specimen you are," it says, drawing a sharp angry line down Derek's torso, a red line of blood beading up in its wake.    
  
Stiles takes a determined step forward, forgetting the magical barrier that rings the clearing they're in, and hits it with a frustrated growl. Looking around the field, the watery moonlight shows him an equally agitated Scott, Erica, Isaac and Boyd, arranged in an accidental five pointed star at the edge of whatever it is that's keeping them from Derek and the demon.   
  
The thing laughs, even as Derek looks at Stiles with something like resignation and it send a sharp, longing anger through him; Derek is not going to die here tonight, Stiles will not let it be true.   
  
"Poor little human, so impotent in the face of all this pain," its voice is inhuman in an unnameable way, and it sets all the hair on Stiles' body on end. It stage whispers in Derek's ear "I think the boy cares for you, wolf. Isn't that precious? It's almost too bad I'm going to make him watch you die, I could've planned something special for the three of us." The monster squeezes Derek briefly, draws one arm up from his hip in what looks like a caress, but leaves bright red marks behind; it grabs Derek's hair and then jerks his head to the side, a dark tongue licks a slippery stripe at Derek's pulse point.   
  
Stiles feels something hot and powerful them under his skin, his fists clench and open several times, and as the demon sets its pointed teeth against Derek's throat, he finds his voice, shouts "Let him go!" in a growl that sounds like an ancient wind more than anything a human could make. It shakes the trees around them, and the demon is thrown a distance, landing with a heavy, echoing thud against a wide tree trunk. The barrier is gone too, and as the wolves rush to deal with the monster, Stiles finds himself suddenly next to Derek, somehow there in time to catch him before he stumbles to the damp forest floor.   
  
"I've got you, you're safe," he nearly sobs, the relief of having Derek in his arms a palpable thing as the other man curls into Stiles. "You're safe," he repeats, rubbing soothing circles into his back.   
  
*****   
  
When they get Derek home, Stiles sends the others home with a small, grateful smile and assurances they'll figure it all out the next day.   
  
He leads Derek into their bathroom, turns on the shower and undresses him carefully, unsure his touch is welcome with the demon's still lingering on Derek's skin. Derek leans into it eagerly, so Stiles takes off his clothes as well, takes Derek's hand and steps into the shower.   
  
Under the warm spray, Stiles washes Derek with gentle, reverent touches, watching his face for signs of discomfort and gratefully finding none. He focuses on the places the demon touched, covering the memory of uninvited fingers on Derek's skin with soft caresses and softer kisses, excorcising the ghosts of so many unwelcome touches with loving attention and explicitly sought permission; something they're both used to doing for one another.   
  
Once they're clean and dry, Stiles is ready to get them safely tucked into the familiar comfort of their bed, but Derek seems to have other plans. He grabs Stiles' hand gently, pulls him into an eager kiss that starts as a whisper, just a press of lips moving slowly against each other, Derek's hands gently cradling Stiles' face, Stiles' resting on Derek's hip sand the small of his back. They haven't spoken much since the clearing, but they've always been good at understanding each other without words.    
  
The kiss builds in intensity, Derek biting gently at Stiles' lower lip, his tongue sweeping into Stiles' mouth, inviting Stiles' to play.    
  
Stiles feels the moment that Derek grows desperate, he changes the angle of the kiss, deepens it, his tongue roughly seeking more, his hands are clutching at Stiles as though he's afraid he'll disappear, he rubs his groin against Stiles' in a too quick roll of hips, their erections rasping against one another almost painfully, and Stiles feels tears, tastes their salt where they're falling against his lips.   
  
He pushes Derek away gently, keeping him close enough that their noses almost brush, looks him steadily in the eye while he brushes tears from his stubbled cheeks with his thumb. "Hey, you. I'm right here," he says, voice gentle, no trace of the power that was there in the forest, but Derek shivers in his arms nonetheless.   
  
"I need you," he says, and Stiles understands. He steps backward carefully, pulling Derek along until the backs of his calves meet the bed. He sinks down slowly, holding Derek's gaze as he places open mouthed kisses along his hip, into the crease of his groin, at the base of his cock. He trails his tongue up the side of Derek's erection, takes the tip into his mouth like it's a holy thing, and sinks down slowly, fluttering his tongue against Derek's length as he swallows around him. Derek moans and settles his hands on Stiles' shoulders as he bobs his head slowly.   
  
When Derek is trembling slightly, Stiles pulls off with a wet pop and crawls further onto the bed, pulling Derek after him. He settles Derek into his back, himself into the crease of Derek's hips, and they kiss for long moments, Stiles told his hips into Derek's at a languid pace, the slick of their precome adding a pleasant drag to the spit slick slide of it.   
  
Stiles reaches for his nightstand, retrieves the lube from its place in the drawer and manages to flip the cap open and squeeze some onto his fingers without breaking their kiss. He reaches between them, reluctantly ending their frotting, and circles Derek's hole with gentle, lube slick fingers, sinking one into Derek's tight heat and earning him a delicious moan.   
  
When Derek is practically begging, clenching around three fingers and bucking against Stiles' hand, Stiles is more than ready to be inside him. He adds some lube to his dripping cock and with a slightly sloppy kiss slides into Derek with one long, unhurried push. They both groan as Stiles' hips brush the backs of Derek's thighs, and they start a deep but deliberate pace, moving together in a practiced but always exciting rhythm.   
  
Hands trace over pain warmed skin, lips and tongues meet and leave damp trails along collarbones and shoulders, and deep, searching kisses are exchanged.   
  
Derek still holds Stiles a little too tightly, but it's good, too, keeps Stiles anchored. He kisses a path down the column of Derek's throat, fighting a flash of possessive anger at the memory of the demons teeth set there and Derek whimpers. It's an incongruous note in the chorus of pleasured pants and groans, and Stiles pulls away to look at his mate, concern burning through the haze of passion.   
  
"What is it, Der?"   
  
Derek tries to look away, but Stiles won't let him, catches his face with his palm, long fingers petting lightly at Derek's cheek.   
  
"Can you- I need you to bite me. Please? Here?" his voice is quiet but steady as he gestures to where the demon had nearly sunk his teeth with a shaky hand. "I need to feel like I'm yours, still."   
  
The clarification is unnecessary, Stiles understands, would do it even if he didn't just because Derek asked, but he feels something warm spread through him at the words anyway. Because whatever else Derek Hale is, he is most definitely Stiles Stilinski's.   
  
"You are mine. Always," Stiles smiles at him, punctuates his statement with a sweet kiss that Derek arches into, reminding them both that they're still connected and eliciting another simultaneous groan. They begin to move together again, and Stiles returns to the spot on Derek's neck. He kisses the skin there, soft, small brushes of his lips. Parts his lips slightly to let them drag across the smooth flesh, mouths achingly slowly at the juncture of Derek's neck and shoulder.   
  
Derek is fucking into the roll of Stiles' hips now, Stiles' thrusts getting quicker and harder as he does. Derek tilts his head a little, baring more of his neck, and it sends a thrill of new arousal through Stiles as he sucks what would be an impressive hickey- if Derek wasn't a supernatural quick healer- into the skin above Derek's pulse point, revels in the throb of his heartbeat under his tongue.   
  
Stiles sets his mouth wide over the steadily beating pulse, his grip on Derek's thigh tightening as he feels Derek's cock twitching between their pressed together bellies, feels Derek's hands threaded in his hair, feels his orgasm building and gathering low in his core, hears their combined moans and panting breaths echoing in the otherwise still air of their bedroom. As Derek stutters against him and whines a needy and pleased "Stiles," into his ear, Stiles closes his jaw, bites into the hot flesh between his teeth, feels the hammering of Derek's heart on his tongue and comes with a shout that makes his toes curl.   
  
He's dimly aware of the warm, sticky come that covers his stomach, and even more vaguely conscious of the spend that is dribbling out around his dick, where he and Derek are still joined. He looks at Derek, needing assurance that he's alright, and finds a look of pure relief and adoration on his face. Stiles kisses him, a warm smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.   
  
"Always, Derek," he repeats. "And I'm yours, too." Derek pulls Stiles into an exhausted embrace, limbs heavy with the exertion and worry of the night catching up to them both. They settle contentedly against one another.   
  
"Always," Derek echoes as they both drift into a peaceful sleep.   
  


**Author's Note:**

> Come [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/poetry-protest-pornography) with me!


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